


Best Case Scenario

by KaRaEa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaRaEa/pseuds/KaRaEa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas keeps a journal to make him feel less lonely and Dean finds it and is a nosey bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Case Scenario

**Author's Note:**

> Not been beta'd and barely been looked over to be honest. Been a really hectic day and just wanted to post it while I remembered.

The journal starts off as someone to talk to. Having absorbed such a sheer amount of literature, he had plenty of examples of people doing the same and with his unique circumstances a part of him supposed there should be some record of what happened to him. After all, the books hunters relied on had to come from somewhere and with the overabundance of angels on earth now, there was a chance it would be helpful to someone eventually.

So he bought a book small enough to fit in his pocket, but big enough that he needn't worry about fitting his writing into it. He charmed it to make it fireproof and waterproof and resistant to any kind of damage he could presently think of. And he wrote.

He wrote about falling. He wrote about how having his grace stolen was different from the slow decline he'd faced a few years ago now. He wrote about how lonely being human had been, how kind and how cruel humanity could be. He wrote about Nora, the first friend he had ever made for himself and how she had helped him. He wrote about stealing the grace from another angel and how much it burned.

He wrote about Dean.

He wrote everything he could think of about Dean, because writing about him simultaneously made the ache better and worse.

By the end of the first week, there were pages and pages worth of descriptions of his eyes, of his soul, of how much Castiel worried that soul would be corrupted by the mark beyond what even Hell had managed. Memories written in crowded, hasty handwriting because he didn't want to leave a single thing out.

By the first month, he's given up on the thought of the journal being useful to anyone but himself. It's already half full as Castiel writes in it whenever the homesickness gets too much (and Dean is undoubtedly his home in a way Heaven never was) or his faith in what he's doing weakens, and Dean is what he writes about each time, the entries slowly morphing into something close to letters that Dean will never read. He supposes it's a fitting reversal of all the times Dean has prayed to him and he hasn't answered or even heard.

He wonders if Dean still prays and whether he'd hear it if he did. The stolen grace hasn't returned everything he's lost to him.

It is during this month that he sees the Winchesters again and he almost forgets that Dean doesn't know all the things he wrote to him in his journal.

"Hey, Cas." Dean's voice and face are weary, his shoulders going from slumped to stiff and back again every few minutes, as though Dean wants to stand straight but can't quite manage to hold it for very long.

"Dean." Cas nods, smiling faintly. He tears his eyes away to greet the younger Winchester, whose eyes are just as tired but warmer and more welcoming, less withdrawn. "Sam."

Sam smiles back just briefly before stepping forward. "It's good to see you."

Cas meets him in the middle, giving him a hug now he realises that it's welcome. Dean may be his world, but Sam is a substantial part of it. Sam is his friend, his brother more than any save maybe Balthazar have been, and he's missed him dearly.

He knows better by now than to think his feelings towards the eldest Winchester are brotherly.

The hug is quick but satisfying, filling in parts of him he didn't know were missing with Sam out of his life. He turns to Dean, hesitating, but wanting that same satisfaction from him.

Perhaps seeing Cas's hesitation, Dean steps forward slightly, hands open, arms relaxed.

When he finally gets his arms around Dean his senses are overwhelmed. Dean's smell, Dean's solidness, Dean's warmth, Dean's breath in his ear, the faint beat of Dean's heart. Everything is Dean. He wishes he could write it all down in his journal before he forgets even the smallest part of it.

Dean clears his throat and moves back and Cas reluctantly widens the distance. They've had that talk; personal space.

"So, how are things going on the angel front?" Dean asks.

"Badly. But that's only to be expected. Angels are creatures of order and rules; this chaos is too much for them." Castiel answers honestly. "Some are adapting, but it's a slow process. How are things on the Abaddon front?"

"Crap." Dean gives a sour chuckle. "But when are they not?"

"If you require any assistance while you're here I'm only too happy to help." Cas offers.

"Yeah, thanks. We'll, uh, we'll see." Dean holds his gaze.

He sees Sam shift uncomfortably in his peripheral vision and drops his eyes. "So, are you here for any reason in particular, or is this a social call?"

"Bit of both, actually." Sam replies. "We were in the area and we just thought we'd check in. See how you're doing."

Castiel struggles to rein in his surprise at that. "I'm doing fine."

"Glad to hear that." Sam says softly. "Where are you staying?"

***

Dean could've cried when he entered Cas's motel room, so like all of the rooms he'd stayed in himself. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Cas in a motel, but it was the first time there was actual evidence of the angel in the room. From the small pile of books and seemingly random bagged ingredients for whatever spells Cas needed them for, to the damp towel on the floor by the bed, each sign of Cas actually living here was like a kick to the chest. Because he shouldn't be here. He should be back at the bunker in the room Dean and Sam had readied for him as soon as they knew he was human, before Gadreel had ruined everything. That's the only place on earth this angel should be taking showers and doing research, not some dingy motel room out on his own.

But instead of saying any of that out loud and causing them all some degree of pain and discomfort, he sits down on Cas's bed and picks up the police reports lying on one of the pillows. "You still looking for Metatron?"

Cas sighs. "It has become painfully apparent that if I were to find and confront him, there would be nothing I could do anyway. Instead, I'm taking the opportunity to gather strength and numbers so that my brethren and I might actually stand a chance when the time comes."

Dean doesn't know what to say to that, but Sam comes to his rescue, offering to go get food from the diner up the road. Orders taken, he leaves Dean and Cas to themselves.

"Listen..." Dean starts, but has no clue how to continue.

Cas avoids his eyes. "I think I'm going to take a shower. I've found it helps me clear my head."

Dean swallows and nods.

As soon as he hears the water run, he drops his head into his hands. He hates that everything is so messed up that he can't even talk to his best friend properly. He hates that this is the first time in a couple of months that he's spoken to Cas in person, the first time in weeks that he's even heard his voice. He hates it.

He lets his gaze dart around the room, coming to rest on Cas's coat, thrown over the back of the only chair in the room. He stands and runs his hand over it, missing its predecessor, missing its owner. His hand catches of a hard edge, and he pauses. Glancing at the closed bathroom door, he digs into the pocket and pulls out a small book.

He knows then that he should leave it, it has enough of a resemblance to his father's journal for him to know exactly what it is. But he can't. He feels so separated from the people he cares about, and this, this might help him feel closer to Cas.

He lowers himself into the chair, the smell of Cas surrounding him from the coat, and opens the journal to the latest entry.

  
  


_The angels who have asked me to lead them have grown tenfold since I first decided to accept. I still fear what I will be when all of this is over, fear becoming what power made me into before. Will I even be able to meet your eye? Will there be enough of me left to care?_

_I remember when I convinced you to torture Alistair. Do you remember? Of course you do, that was a stupid question._

_I remember how you fought against it, how you warned me against yourself. Because to you, torturing him meant going back to everything he had made you. But you couldn't see yourself, how amazing you were and still are for being the man who said no to me when i asked you to torture the one who had hurt you so badly. You see a man who couldn't hold to his convictions and eventually gave in and did something irredeemable. I see a man who battled so fiercely against the darkness inside him that he needed to be forced into doing something most people would have gleefully done without being asked._

_I wish I hadn't made you do that. Not a single thing we could have learned from him was worth hurting you that way. I don't know how you could ever forgive me for that._

_I wish I had your strength, your resilience. I wish I could go into this knowing I'll come out of the other side someone you wouldn't be ashamed to call a friend. I wish I could tell you all that I'm doing without seeing the disappointment and doubt in your eyes; without knowing I deserve it._

_I wish you were here._

Dean coughed and closed his eyes. Now he most definitely knew he shouldn't be reading this. The words were written as if for him, but it was pretty damn obvious he wasn't meant to see them. Conscious of the fact Cas could finish in the bathroom or Sam could come back at any moment, he skimmed through a few more entries. His name appeared on almost every page, sometimes a vague reference, sometimes as if Cas was writing to him.

There were quite a few angry entries too; the journal wasn't exactly a love letter; but most of the anger very obviously stemmed from hurt and fear. Dean had to admit, after all the crap with Sam lately it was nice to see that someone was worried about him and wanted to be there for him.

He flips the pages again and pauses, eyes widening and hands clenching around the journal. It was a list of possible outcomes written messily and less organised than some of the other entries, as if written in frustration.

_He could laugh in my face and tell me 'good one' as if my feelings were a joke._

_He could be awkward, unable to speak to me._

_He could hit me._

_He could be kind. He could try and soften the rejection._

_He could try and get me 'laid' again._

_He could insist that I'm confused._

_He could not believe me._

_It could ruin our friendship._

"Do you make a habit of going through other people's things?"

Hunter or not, Dean jumps, guiltily trying to hide the journal from view despite how pointless that would be. "Uh, hey Cas. Didn't hear you get out."

Cas scowls and tugs the journal from Dean's hands. "How much did you read?"

"Not much." Dean lies. "Just the last entry."

Cas nods and his scowl softens slightly in relief. "Don't go prying again. This is personal." He holds up the journal before tucking it back into his coat pocket.

"Yeah, right, sorry." Dean fumbles. He stands to give Cas access to the mirror. "Cas?"

"Yes?"

"You know..." He stops and clears his throat. "You know we've been through a lot of crap, and our friendship, you, this..." He gestures vaguely between them, "Whatever, means a lot to me. Hell, next to Sammy..."

"You mean a lot to me as well. Is there a point to this?" Cas prompts.

"There's nothing you could tell me that would change that, you know that right?"

Cas freezes. "I am sure there are many things that could change your mind about me."

"Like what?"

Cas darts a glance at Dean's face before carefully sitting down in the chair. Dean sits opposit him on the bed.

Eventually Dean becomes impatient. "Like what, Cas?"

Cas sighs. "Do we have to do this now?"

"Yes. Secrets have screwed us up pretty badly in the past and I'm sick of it. Just tell me what the problem is." Dean insists.

"It's not a problem. And it's fine, it doesn't need addressing."

"Really? 'Cause if that were true then you wouldn't be trying so hard to dodge the issue." Dean points out.

"Dean! It's not important, would you just drop it?" Cas raises his voice, panic in his inflection.

Dean's voice rises in response. "Why? Why won't you talk to me?"

“Why won't you leave it alone?”

“Because I care about you, damn it! You're all I have left and I'm not going to let anything ruin that!” Dean rubs his hand over his mouth and turns away to pull himself together.

“All the more reason not to tell you.” Cas says, voice quiet and imploring once more.

Dean turns back, crowds into Cas's personal space. “No. No, you can't just say something like that and expect me to forget about it! What could be so goddamn awful that you can be so sure it would break us just like that?”

Cas's hands clench and unclench at his sides and Dean presses the advantage, stepping even closer and forcing Cas to meet his eye.

“C'mon, Cas! If it's gonna ruin us then it may as well happen now.”

“I'm in love with you.”

Dean steps back, stumbles. “You're...” He takes a deep breath. “And that's something awful to you?” Then he remembers all the parts of Cas's list in the journal. “You thought I would hit you?”

Cas glares. “Just the last entry?”

Dean ducks his head a little. “Okay, maybe a little more than that. But cut me a break, man. I've barely spoken to you in months, I just wanted to know what was going on with you.”

“And you couldn't have asked?”

Dean holds up his hands a little. “Yeah, I probably should have. Just... Why would you think that I'd hit you? Or laugh at you?”

“I didn't think... They were just possibilities.”

“No, they're really not.” Dean looks at Cas with incredulous eyes. “Dude, I'd never do that to you.”

“They were worst case scenarios. I was trying to prepare myself, trying to remind myself why I couldn't tell you.”

“And there wasn't a positive outcome on there why?”

“Because no good can come of this, Dean. The best I could hope for was that you'd be kind with your rejection, which I believe I did write along with the others.”

“Why would you assume I'd reject you? Cas, I know I'm not good with this, but I thought you knew. Everything I've... I told you I needed you.”

Cas's eyes widen but he remains silent.

“C'mon, you had to have at least guessed?”

Cas shakes his head.

“Do you need me to say it?” Dean asks. “Because I'll say it if you need me to. And that's just not something I say, I'm not... I never even said it to Lisa.”

“Yes. Please.”

“I love you. I'm in love with you.” Dean forces out. It's not as romantic as it should have been, what with the gritted teeth and all, but it seems to do the trick. Cas looks terrified and happy and wonderful, and Dean wants to kiss him now that he can.

Cas beats him to it, first wrapping his arms around Dean and squeezing so tightly Dean has to remind him that human ribcages really aren't built to withstand angelic strength, then pressing his lips to Dean's slowly and with his eyes open, as if making sure Dean isn't going to back away.

Dean's eyes also stay open, focused on Cas and the overwhelmed expression on his face. Cas tastes a little like honey and Dean suppresses a laugh at all the bee related memories they share, painful though they had been at the time. The height difference is almost unnoticeable and Cas's hair is damp and tangly between his fingers, still smelling of motel shampoo. The feel of their mouths moving, still so slowly, so cautiously, is hypnotic. The warm puffs of air hitting his lips with soft noises that Dean drowns in, the way Cas's arms tighten again so Dean can barely breathe; it's all Dean could ever want. He could do this forever and not regret a single moment.

“Oh, um, sorry guys.”

They pull apart at the sound of Sam's voice, both still too dazed to move far.

“So, the diner had three different kinds of pie and I didn't know which one you'd want so I got us one each and thought...” Sam stops. “Are you guys even listening to me?”

“What?” Dean asks before his brain catches up with him. Then he spins to face his brother. “You don't seem too surprised.”

“About what?” Sam asks as he digs out their meals from the bag and places them on the bed.

“Me and Cas. What we were doing when you came in. You know, with the kissing and stuff.” Dean watches Sam closely.

“Dean, I know you guys aren't into PDA, but I'd be more surprised if I didn't walk in on you at least once. I'm just glad you're both fully dressed.” Sam throws himself back into the pillows and starts eating.

“Sam, did you think... Were you under the impression Dean and I were engaged in a romantic relationship?” Cas questions.

Sam looks up, confused. “Well, yeah. I'm not stupid and you guys haven't exactly been hiding it.”

Dean gapes for a moment. “Sam, that was our first kiss, we only just got together.”

Sam rolls his eyes and digs in the bag for some salt.

“Really. Before just now we were just friends.”

Sam looks between them. “Really? I mean, I know you guys went through a rough patch but...”

“Really.” Cas confirms.

“Oh. Well, congrats I guess. Did either of you guys get any salt with yours?”

  
  


 


End file.
